Milli-! Milli-!
Milli-! Milliii-!
His voice cried out right in front of her, yet it reached her ears as a distant mumble. Tears glistened suddenly in Isaac's eyes, reflected in Milli's crimson gaze. They stirred memories of moonlit nights spent together.
It had been late that night. Under a risen moon, unbeknownst to anyone, he gripped a greatsword, sweat pouring from his body. There could be many reasons for training alone where no one could see, but Isaac's were profoundly simple. He hated showing his pathetic side. To the family, being swung around by a greatsword rather than wielding it would be a disgrace.
So he swung it alone, deep into the night. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't surpass his innate limits. The weight of talent born from the Helmont bloodline was overwhelmingly crushing.
"Eat this first, then keep going."
The cook's mornings started early. Milli, rising before dawn to prepare breakfast, naturally grew close to Isaac. Why? As a commoner from a poor slum, she needed that diligence to survive in the Helmont kitchens. They shared that common ground—pushing through impossible odds from the break of day.
[Thanks as always, Milli.]
"You were up late again yesterday. Shouldn't you rest today?"
It was their routine chat under the moonlight. In the dead of night, their small talk was a rare moment of respite in the Helmont mansion.
[Rest? Nah, I've got to keep at it steadily. I have no talent for the sword, after all.]
"Talent..."
Milli gave a wry smile. As someone gifted in cooking herself, she wondered what good it even did. The head chef had spotted her raw potential and brought her here, but that didn't mean the whole kitchen accepted her. Just as Isaac suffered under the direct Helmonts, she struggled in the cutthroat kitchens.
"What is it about the sword that drives you to work so hard, Sir Isaac?"
They had become close enough for honest confessions. Isaac pondered her question, then brushed it off with an embarrassed laugh.
[I started admiring it, so I want to become like that too. But more than anything...]
[I want to stand proudly by her side. By Lianna's side, that's where I want to be.]
"You're her husband."
[Husband or not, I'm not worthy. The Helmont son-in-law who can't even handle a greatsword properly.]
Isaac pressed his blistered palms. Coldly speaking, if all this effort couldn't even let him swing a greatsword right, maybe he truly had no talent. But gazing at the night sky, his eyes held the pure innocence of a child reaching for stars he'd never grasp.
"Aren't you scared?"
[Of what?]
Milli asked sharply without thinking.
"Of failing despite the effort. Of realizing some realms are beyond your power."
[......]
"Even for me... I know I have talent, but no one uses me because of where I came from."
[Honestly...]
Isaac paused awkwardly before replying.
[Sorry, I've never feared that. But I am preparing for it.]
"Preparing...?"
[If no matter how hard I try, I'm still the inadequate man who can't stand by my wife's side—]
He answered flatly, but sorrow laced his words.
[I'll have to leave. For Lianna's sake.]
"...!"
Milli was stunned. All this effort wasn't even for himself.
"But Sir Isaac."
[Yeah?]
Would Lianna even want that? The question reached her tongue, but...
"No, it's nothing."
She shook her head, swallowing the pointless words.
Isaac and Lianna had been married just six months.
A year into their marriage. Rumors swirled in the mansion that they had grown bored of each other. Lianna's gaze had changed. No longer the quiet, loving look that said everything without words—it was cold, detached. She often didn't even glance at Isaac.
Amusingly enough.
"...No wounds lately, huh."
[Yeah.]
Isaac's body stayed intact more often. [Indeed.] But his expression was worse than ever. Lianna rarely showed affection anyway, but its total absence clearly frustrated him.
[Well, gotta keep trying.]
In Milli's eyes, Isaac had grown a lot in that year. The greatsword once impossible for him to swing—now he could at least wield it without stumbling.
But like clothes that didn't fit, he plateaued, stuck at that level. The limits of a mere ferryman paddling against the current had arrived.
"I'll grab some snacks."
Milli headed inside for the boiled potatoes she'd set aside for him. Tragedy struck as she wrapped hot ones in a cloth in the kitchen.
"Lady of the house?!"
Galeniya Helmont discreetly offered her a small pouch.
[Put this in Isaac's breakfast tomorrow.]
"This is...?"
Her gaze said she knew. Milli froze, trembling wordlessly. Galeniya gently stroked her shoulder, whispering comfortingly.
[No need to worry. Think of it as medicine. Medicine to strengthen the Helmonts.]
"...!"
[He won't die. That would trouble me too. So trust me.]
Milli squeezed her eyes shut, summoning courage for the first time.
"B-but—!"
[Filthy slum rat from the back alleys of Bolten, Milli Marso.]
"...!"
[Did you think one head chef liking you let you work here in Helmont?]
Status crushed her. Bloodline. Class. Society. The absolute superior loomed over the parasite from the gutters.
[We took you in from Bolten for times like this.]
"Ah..."
[This isn't just about conscience. It's your life, your family's, weighed against Isaac's.]
Family?
[A few coins in Bolten, and scum like you grab swords without question, right?]
"Why—why my family—!"
[You learned my secret. Just now.]
"Ah."
The Helmont matriarch plotting to kill her own son-in-law. From that moment, Milli's life was no longer hers.
Before she knew it, Milli took the purple pouch and nodded.
Two weeks later. Somewhat recovered, Isaac swung his sword relentlessly. But bedridden time had weakened him; even holding the greatsword felt burdensome.
[Hah! Hah!]
Finally dropping it, he panted, scanning around.
[Milli?]
Milli, who usually appeared by now, was nowhere.
[Milli? Huh? Day off today?]
He checked the kitchen—no Milli. He headed back out.
"Hic."
Hiding under a storage shelf, Milli stifled sobs. She couldn't forget Lianna's wail when Isaac collapsed from sudden illness. She couldn't face him, blaming herself not at all.
She avoided him for a while. Guilt lingered, unhealed, but time let her hide it outwardly.
Then.
Years passed. Pretending composure despite being broken inside, another purple pouch appeared before her.
She had only one choice.
"Milli-! Please! Snap out of it!"
As everyone rushed to Galeniya writhing in agony, only Isaac stayed by her side.
A life's reel, perhaps. Memories flooded through past nights to this moment. As always, the two were left alone in the grand mansion.
"What's wrong! What did you eat! Milli!"
Tears she'd never shed amid bullying now streamed down Milli's cheeks.
Desperate to save his friend, Isaac shouted around.
"Doctor! N-no—! Mage!"
Mages and doctors swarmed Galeniya. Isaac ground his teeth, trying to rise, but Milli gripped his wrist.
Her touch, pathetically weak, terrified him.
"Milli, don't worry. I'll get help right—!"
"S-Sir Isaac..."
He suppressed the urge to fetch a doctor at her pleading call.
"Yeah, Milli. I'm here. So—."
"I'm sorry."
"What do you have to be sorry for! I'll fix this right—."
"Really... truly sorry."
Seeing thick tears pour from her eyes, Isaac sensed something wrong. Her eerie acceptance of death felt alien.
"Hic, ugh! Now of all—."
"Milli, please. Don't give up. I'll—."
"Even apologizing feels wrong—."
"Please! Stop! Whatever you say, I'll hear it later! Just don't give up!"
Her vision blurred. His wailing voice dripped with moisture.
"I'm sorry."
"I wanted to show you something. That I'm no longer swayed by the Helmonts. My proud self to you... overcoming and moving forward... I wanted you to see that!"
Her trembling hand touched his cheek, fragile as her flickering life.
Isaac overlaid his hand on hers.
"I forgive you, okay? Milli. Please. Whatever wrong, it doesn't matter. So—!"
Calmly, her eyelids closed. Her hand fell like a wilting flower.
"Ah—."
Yet, with a faint smile.
"I'm glad."
Content with his forgiveness, she shut her eyes.
"...Milli? Milli-!"
Her name echoed through the vast hall.
The great mansion. Dawn touched only by starlight.
Their dreams differed, but their efforts matched. Leaning, comforting, encouraging, scolding—they advanced together.
They wished for one thing from each other.
Far in the future. Facing each other.
Not crying. Not worrying.
But smiling.
Just that.
The next day. By sunrise, Milli's room stood empty. When Isaac arrived late, no trace remained—a testament to swift handling of the unsavory incident at the festival.
Galeniya was fine. Just initial agony. Unlike Milli, she suffered no real harm.
She even declared no blame for Milli, who tried to assassinate her, to protect the festival.
Nobles praised Galeniya's mercy.
Many hailed her a saint.
Many called her the epitome of nobility.
Only Isaac held what she'd left: her portrait, drawn long ago.
It sat in his room, seemingly left before the banquet.
"......"
Behind the frame.
To Isaac,
Galeniya tried to poison you. She held my family and me hostage.
My family vanished in the Bolten uprising.
I'm sorry—this is all the atonement I can offer.
—Milli Marso
He'd already read the letter Galeniya gave her. And the accompanying "medicine."
Milli had tried to kill Galeniya somehow. Using a different poison meant she'd prepared for such a moment.
But her death elevated Galeniya instead.
Thud.
Cherishing the portrait on his desk, Isaac smiled softly.
Stepping out, he sought Clarice.
She lounged in the rose-filled garden. Having heard of his desperate cries last night, she looked worried.
"You okay—."
"Galeniya Helmont."
No tear stains lingered in his eyes.
"The Helmont matriarch is a collaborator—."
With his friend's help, he'd reached the truth.
"I'm certain she's already become a Transcendent."
"Any reasons?"
Milli died in 1-2 minutes from lethal poison. Galeniya endured without special treatment unscathed.
And Isaac knew such monstrosities were only Transcendents.
"Sounds convincing."
"Milli left a letter."
Others might point fingers at you.
'You've done so much for me.'
So no worries. If possible, watch over me.
My dear friend.
